


Engagement Ring? It's Actually A Gun!

by broadlicnic



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Engagement, Fluff, M/M, curt being a dumbass, owen being an accidental dumbass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 08:18:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20739128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broadlicnic/pseuds/broadlicnic
Summary: A short, fluffy little ficlet for the SAF Discord. Why Curt shouldn't propose in the middle of a mission.





	Engagement Ring? It's Actually A Gun!

“I’m going to do it.”

Tatiana’s voice crackled through the small speaker on the watch. _ “Curt, you are in the middle of a mission.” _

“I know,” Curt said, his voice a little strained as he pulled himself up the ladder. He was getting out of shape. “But if I don’t do it now, I’ll chicken out.”

_ "Can you not wait until you’re out of the facility, at least?” _

“It has to be now,” Curt insisted, “while I still have the adrenaline to do it.”

“Did you say something, love?” Owen called out, emerging from a doorway separating the balcony from the main laboratory. His gun was held aloft, but his face was calm. The course was clear for entry.

Curt heaved himself over the wall. “Gotta go, Tati!” he said, and pressed the small button on his watch before she could protest further.

“Took you a while to get up here, old boy,” Owen said with a smirk.

“You’re not the one who had to heave himself up three stories on a rope ladder!” Curt said, already gathering the ladder up into a bundle. “I’m heavier than you.”

“I’ve noticed,” Owen laughed. Curt shot him a disapproving look and he bit his lip in apology. “Come on, the samples are third door on the left. We need your laser pen to disable the lock.”

Curt dumped the rope ladder on the floor of the balcony, in case they needed it again for escape. He dashed past Owen, pulling his gun out from its holster beneath his jacket, and slipped quietly down the empty, grey hall. Owen followed close behind, his own gun trained at the one corner that led to this quiet corridor of the facility. He reached out and grabbed Curt by the collar as he almost ran past the door they needed. Okay, so Curt’s attention wasn’t wholly on where he was supposed to be going. His mind was whirring with other possibilities.

_ I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna do it now. _

“Curt, love,” Owen said softly, his face full of concern. “The laser?”

“Oh yeah,” he said, patting down his jacket. “Of course.” He reached inside his right breast pocket and felt around. Yes, the ring was still there. So the pen was in his left. He grabbed at it and in his haste accidentally set off the laser, shooting it into the air. Owen grabbed his hand quickly and snatched the pen from him.

“What’s got into you today, Mega?” he hissed, and aimed the beam at the keypad. It smoked, then lit up with a bang, and the door swung ajar.

“Sorry,” Curt muttered, as they slipped inside.

“Okay,” Owen said, heading straight for the large refrigerator on the back wall of the lab storage unit, “we need the samples on the third shelf. You watch the door.”

_ Do it. Do it now. _

When Owen turned around, Curt Mega was down on one knee.

Owen’s hands fumbled, and the rack of test tubes jostled against each other. It was a miracle he didn’t drop them. He set them down slowly, carefully, on the bench.

“You’re just tying your shoe, right?”

“Owen Carvour…” Curt began.

Owen shook his head furiously. “No, no, no… not here. The _ mission_, Curt.”

“We’ve worked together for so long, and we owe each other our lives a thousand times over,” Curt said, the well-practiced speech now coming to him like second nature. He could see Owen’s hand was trembling. He took a tentative step closer, and Curt felt his confidence invigorated. He was _ doing it_. “But at some point, you’ve got to ask, in a job as dangerous as ours, a job where you could die at any moment, what is the thing that’s worth living for.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Owen gasped.

“And every time a mission seems hopeless, I tell myself, ‘I have to make it out of here. I have to live…' for you.”

“Curt...” Owen said softly.

“I’ve known since that night in Berlin,” Curt continued, “when we walked home and your eyes were sparkling in the streetlights and you were laughing… I just knew I wanted to hear that laugh forever. And you kissed me, and I wanted that forever too.”

“Oh my god…”

“And so,” Curt said, fumbling around in his breast pocket. That was funny, he was sure he had a ring box earlier, but hey, at least he remembered the ring itself. He pulled it out, a thick, solid band of gold flecked with tiny, subtle diamonds, and held it, the gems sparkling in the cold fluorescent light of the lab, “Owen Carvour, will you have forever with me?”

“Curt,” Owen said, his voice a little sad, his eyes pitiful, “it’s not legal.”

“So?” Curt shrugged. “We don’t get a piece of paper. We can still have a ceremony. I can still call you my husband. If you’ll let me.”

Owen grinned wide, his eyes shining with tears. “Obviously,” he said. He held out a shaking left hand, holding his breath as Curt took it in his hands and slipped the ring onto his finger. He pulled Curt up to his feet, gathered him in his arms and pulled him in for a kiss.

No sooner had their lips touched that Owen was pushing him away. “Curt, look out!”

Curt whirled on his feet, and in front of him stood some mook. The guy’s gun wasn’t even drawn yet. This was going to be easy. “I got this,” he said confidently, knowing Owen had set his own gun down when retrieving the samples.

He already had on the ring. Barb had given it to him earlier that day, in her long list of gadgets that were actually a gun. He’d put it on his own ring finger, hoping Owen wouldn’t notice the purposeful placement until later, since it had matched the ring he’d bought for Owen. Had Barb seen him looking at the ring in the jewellery store as they’d passed on the way for coffee? Had she styled it that way specifically? He didn’t know. What he did know was that pushing the largest of the diamonds would activate it. He curled his hand into a fist, and pointed it at the mook, and pressed the button.

Nothing happened.

“I’ll handle this!” he said again. He pressed it, and again, nothing. Behind him, he heard a soft thump. Owen was probably searching for his gun and bumping into things, but he didn’t want to take his eyes off the mook, who was still staring at him curiously, and slowly moving his hand to his holster.

He pressed the diamond again. Nothing. “I’ll get him… eventually!”

One more time, nothing. He let out a grunt of frustration, and as fast as a whip grabbed his gun from the holster. In the confusion, the mook barely had time to react before Curt had shot him between the eyes.

“Technology’s no match for a good, old-fashioned weapon,” he laughed. “Now, where were we?” Owen was silent in response. “Owen?” he asked. He turned, and Owen was on the floor. “...Owen?”

He hadn’t been shot. He couldn’t have been. The mook hadn’t even pulled his gun and even with a silencer, Curt would have heard a gun firing at such close quarters. None of the chemicals from the samples had been spilt. What the hell had _ happened? _

He hurried over to Owen’s still body and shook his shoulder. _ “Owen!” _ he cried, but still there was no response. He checked Owen’s airway, and his breathing was fine. His pulse was strong. He was just...sleeping. Why was he _ sleeping? _ Curt heaved him over into the recovery position, and as he did, the glint of Owen’s new ring caught his eye.

Slowly, he raised the watch to his mouth. “Barb?”

_ “Curt! Did you get the samples?” _

“Yeah, Barb, just…” Dread was making his stomach curdle like milk past its expiration date. “...the ring.”

_ “Did it not work? It has to! I tested it just this morning!” _

“Barb, what was in the ring?”

_ “Curt, do you _ ever _ pay attention to my briefings?” _

“You know I don’t!” Curt snapped. “It’s obviously not a gun, so what is it?”

_ “When you press the diamond, it fires a tranquilliser dart!” _

“Oh.” _ Oh fuck. _ “And which pocket of my jacket did you put it in?”

_ “The right breast pocket, I told you this!” _

_ Oh no. Oh shit. He was a fucking idiot. _ His fingers combed through Owen’s hair. He actually looked kind of peaceful. It’d be funny, if he wasn’t asleep in a secret underground laboratory they’d rigged to explode. “Barb, I’m gonna need an extraction.”

\---

He woke up stretched across three seats on the jet back to the States. Curt had to carry him over his shoulder to the balcony and load him into the helicopter, then run back for the samples, before they were either cornered or the facility blew. Bullets ricocheted off the blades of the chopper as they flew, the samples nestled in the zinc-lined case Owen was supposed to be carrying. As they landed at the airbase, Tatiana met them, her own mission having gone much more smoothly. She’d glanced at the rings on both their fingers, then at Owen’s slack mouth, and shot Curt a disapproving look. She decided to ride in the cockpit with the pilot.

“Mmph,” Owen groaned, his eyes blinking open slowly. Curt got up from his seat and crouched in the aisle, taking Owen’s hand.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You’re okay.”

Owen squinted against the light of the cabin, his grip loose in Curt’s hand. He was far too tall for the seats, and he kicked the window as he tried to stretch the legs that had been cramped up. “What happened?” he asked groggily.

“You’re not going to like this... “ Curt began.

“...Did we… fail?”

“No, we got the samples,” Curt said. “But you kinda… it was an accident.”

“Tell me, love,” Owen said. He tried to pull himself upright, but Curt steadied his shoulder with his other hand, the one with the ring, and he settled back down. He’d taken off Owen’s ring while he was sleeping.

“You kinda… shot yourself with a tranq.”

“What?” Owen said, snapping out of his confusion. _ “How?” _

“It was hidden in the ring,” Curt explained. “You must have activated it by mistake.”

“I’m not wearing a ring,” Owen said, pulling both of his hands up to his face. His gaze fell on Curt’s left hand. “You’re wearing a ring. Did you… did you tranq me?”

“No! Oh my god, no!” Curt said. “I mean, it’s kind of my fault but…”

“My head hurts,” Owen said.

“Yeah, it will.” Curt knew all too well the headache following a tranq. He may have shot himself with a dart on more than one occasion in the past, but at least they all happened in Barb’s lab. “Owen, do you remember anything?”

“Curt,” he said, groggily. “I don’t even remember getting to the facility.”

“So you don’t…” Curt sighed, and twisted the ring off his own finger. “Never mind,” he sighed, curling his palm around it.

“Love,” Owen said softly, “what’s the ring for?”

Curt pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. The jet shook a little with turbulence and it made him tumble a little so his back rested against the seats, his head close to Owen’s. “I did something dumb.” _ What else is new? _ “I may have… proposed to you.”

“Oh,” Owen said. _ “Oh wow.” _

“You said yes, by the way,” Curt sighed. “Not that you remember it. You have plenty of opportunity to back out.”

“Curt,” Owen said. He yawned, and brought a hand up to play with Curt’s hair. “I’m going to sleep again. But when we land, will you propose again?”

“You want me to…”

“I promise, my answer won’t change,” he said, already closing his eyes, “just give me the right ring next time, okay?”


End file.
